


Otherwise Occupied

by Cheloya



Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheloya/pseuds/Cheloya
Summary: Old, imported. Dishes aren't in either of their job descriptions.





	Otherwise Occupied

He’s not a busboy anymore; he doesn’t have to do dishes. They are no longer in his job description. But he’s happy to do them when he’s the only person suited for the job, and on Merry, he very nearly is.  
  
(He could never ask Nami-san to subject herself to any kind of labour, particularly not the kind that would chap her hands and weaken her perfectly-maintained fingernails, and Luffy is out of the question for so very many reasons that have nothing to do with how delicate he is and everything to do with the delicate balance of his pantry and remaining crockery.)  
  
Usopp had looked like his best choice until Sanji had actually gotten him into the galley. Three plates were broken within five minutes (the Great Usopp had once been a Champion Plate-Spinner who could balance _five hundred_ pieces of crockery and a three – no, six! – foot cutlery sculpture of Reverse Mountain _entirely_ upon his forefingers and Illustrious Nose) and Sanji had ushered the sharpshooter out of the galley with a long-suffering sigh, kicked Luffy over the railing when he tried to get back inside for another go at Sanji’s pantry, and then went about the laborious process of picking up the shards before the dishes even got a look-in.  
  
And he’s perfectly happy to do them, when he’s the only person suited for the job. But when there are other people with capable hands who eat the food he makes them without so much as a thankyou half the time, and who then go straight back to their weights (or just napping), then he’s not quite so perfectly happy, and definitely justified in being that way.  
  
-  
  
Which is why Zoro gets a face full of Sanji the following morning when breakfast is done and he’s on his way out the door for a well-deserved nap. After a two hour early-morning training session and what breakfast he could be bothered saving from Luffy’s grabby hands, he needs it. The cook jerks his head at the sink and the small mountain of dishes and says, “I cooked. You clean.”  
  
From anyone else, Zoro would think that completely reasonable, and agree with a shrug. It won’t take much time; it isn’t infringing on training time. For anyone else, sure. But there’s something about the cook that turns everything into a challenge, and so instead of agreeing immediately, Zoro tilts his head to one side and says, “You wash. I’ll dry.”  
  
Sanji’s brow furrows, and for a moment Zoro feels the delicious thrill of anticipation that always precedes a fight. But then the cook shrugs and heads toward the sink, catching up a dishcloth and flipping it in Zoro’s direction. The swordsman catches it deftly. “You can put them away, then, too. Asshole.” No venom in the word, nor in the smirk thrown back over a pinstriped shoulder. “You’d better keep up with that. I don’t have three.”  
  
“I only need one,” Zoro asserts with a grin, because he’s always appreciated a challenge and every other minute, Sanji’s throwing out a different kind. He takes his place at the shitty cook’s left, and has a hand out, waiting, for every plate, even before Sanji says his name.  
  
This isn’t in his job description, either, but they’re getting pretty good at it.


End file.
